


Come On In the Water's Warm

by mahoni



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bodyswap, Canon Related, Cuddling and Snuggling, Group Sex, Multi, Smut, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoni/pseuds/mahoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob and Mikey swap bodies. Naturally that leads to group sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On In the Water's Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: references to incesty activities.

Later everybody insisted it happened because Mikey stuck his fork in the toaster, but that was actually wrong. _Bob_ stuck the fork in the toaster, _because_ it happened.

It went like this:

Mikey was standing at the counter waiting for his waffles to pop up, fiddling with a fork. Bob was sitting at the table with Frank. Frank's tub of gross vegan margarine happened to be the only butter-like substance left on the entire bus. Waffles without butter of some sort were a travesty, though, which was why Bob made it through exactly one bite of syrup-no-butter-waffles before realizing he would have to suck it up and go vegan for breakfast. He reached out and jammed his knife into the tub of butter --

\-- except just before he did that the bus swerved, or at least he thought it swerved, because he got really dizzy and it felt like the whole bus wobbled. Everything grayed out and faded out for just a second. But Bob was still half-asleep, didn't have more than a couple cups of coffee in his bloodstream, so he didn't really think about it, just reached for the butter --

\-- and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back feeling like his skin was full of dull pins and needles.

"-- goddammit, you are a fucking menace, Jesus --" Gerard stopped shaking him and patted his cheek gently. "Are you okay? Are you fried?"

Behind him, Frank was laughing really hard. And beside Frank Bob knelt looking down at himself.

Literally.

Bob saw his own face hovering above him. He looked ghost-white and gape-mouthed and, wow, he _totally_ had his grandmother's nose. He'd always thought his mom was just being sappy about that, but no, same smushy roundness and everything.

"Hey," he croaked. He raised a hand that swooped like he was drunk. He couldn't really feel his fingertips, but he managed to point at himself. "That's really weird." Meaning, _what am I doing up there?_ but his tongue felt tingly and made words difficult.

Also made him sound not really like himself.

His self -- the one crouching between Frank and Ray -- made a high-pitched, hysterical sound and toppled backwards to sit down hard on the floor.

*

Gerard quizzed Mikey in the back lounge about their childhood for about two minutes before he believed that it actually was Mikey in Bob's body and not some kind of joke.

"But he was back here with you for like an hour," Bob whispered, dropping onto the couch beside Mikey after Gerard vacated.

"Huh?" Mikey said. Mikey's duh-face on Bob's actual face looked really fucking weird. "Dude, why are you whispering?"

"Because," Bob said. Whispered. "Saying shit and having it come out in your voice is really fucking weird."

"Oh yeah, it is, isn't it?" Mikey said, but his eyes lit up when he said it. "Gerard was, like, having me say all kinds of things and talk about shit to see how it sounded when you said it. Or I mean, when I said it as you. You know?"

Mikey had started stroking his throat while he talked. Bob didn't think he was doing it on purpose, but it kind of creeped him out for some reason.

"Stop that," he hissed, poking Mikey's -- his own -- hand.

"Oh," Mikey said, dropping his hand. "Say something in a normal voice. Like, say...oh, yell for Brian."

Bob stared at him. "Brian's not on our bus."

"I know, but you always sound a certain way when you yell for Brian. Or, oh, yell at Frank. Like, go 'get the fuck off me, you spastic midget!'"

Bob stared at himself. His self was beaming in a supremely geeky but also slightly evil way. "You're enjoying this, aren't you. Especially the part where I'm fucking freaking out."

Mikey giggled. Through Bob's vocal chords it sounded like Bugs Bunny on speed. Bob shoved his glasses up his nose (which incidentally was probably the worst thing about this whole bizarre fiasco -- whenever his glasses slipped down he'd have this terrifying moment of _oh my god I'm goind blind_ before realizing it was just Mikey's shitty eyesight. He hated that) and glared. That just made Mikey start to actually laugh. He still sounded like Bugs Bunny.

"You know, shit like this never happened to me before I joined your band," Bob said.

Mikey gave Bob Bob's own patented 'you are an idiot' look. "Well, shit like this never happened to me before you joined our band either. Duh."

"Hey Bob," Frank said from the door to the lounge.

Bob switched his glare from Mikey to Frank. "_What_, Frank?"

Frank collapsed against the doorframe laughing. "Oh man, that is so fucking hilarious! I mean, I go 'hey Bob' and _you_ look at me, and then you're trying to do the Bob-glare but instead it just looks like, you know --" He made himself stop laughing long enough to mimic Mikey's blank 'I am unimpressed and probably also a zombie' expression. Then he cracked up again. "That's some funny shit, seriously."

"Fuck off, Frank," Bob snapped.

"There, that! Dude, that's so wild!" Mikey said. He sat up and clapped his hands and pointed with two-fisted excitement at Bob.

Bob just sighed and swore to himself that he would never, ever, _ever_ show excitement ever again when he got back to his own body. Because himself excited looked like the biggest fucking dork in the universe.

*

It didn't start being cool until they had to play the show that night.

Granted at first the concept of playing a show in the wrong body was terrifying.

"Nobody is going to believe that me and Mikey just decided to start learning each others' instruments!" Bob had said.

"Learning each others' _instruments_." Frank snorted lecherously.

"God, are you _twelve_?"

Bob elbowed him, and Frank stopped snorting and yelped.

"Ow, asshole, you're a lot pointier than usual, knock it off," Frank said.

"Well, what," Ray said. "You think people would honestly be more likely to suspect you swapped bodies than believe that you --" He shot Frank a long-suffering look. "Learned how to play the drums and the bass respectively?"

Which turned out to be an excellent point, actually.

Gerard being Gerard, he managed to sell it like a pro. He gave 'Bob' all kinds of shit about being a better bass player _and_ a better brother and stuff like that. And, okay, aside from the fact that Bob got tired fast due to Mikey's lack of drummer's muscles, it was pretty hilarious. The audience ate it up.

And then Frank went kind of overboard with the stage gay with Mikey and that was just.

Well. Bob had to admit that watching himself being fondled and humped and generally molested by Frank was surprisingly hot. Spectacularly bizarre, but also really, really hot.

And then _Gerard_ got in on the stage gay, which. Bob had always been fully honest -- with himself, anyway -- about the fact that he found Gerard's on-stage pseudo-incest shit kind of a turn on. Not because incest was something Bob got into so much as just, you know, _Gerard_ and _Mikey_. But watching _himself_ trying not to react with Gerard leaning into him, singing at him, holding him by the neck and sliding a hand under his collar --

Bob was really glad to be sitting behind a kit during that show because Mikey's tight pants hid _nothing_, seriously.

*

By the time they piled back into the bus to head out after the show Bob had managed to distract himself from disturbing porny thoughts by marveling at the fact that from inside Mikey's body the Way family stench was virtually unnoticeable.

And then Ray of all people had to go and bring it up.

"You know, I've actually gotten used to Frank and Gerard being --" Ray paused toweling off his head and waved a hand casually. "You know. But it was _weird_ tonight, seeing them doing that with you."

He said that to Bob, but then he hesitated. "Er. Or, I mean. With you," and pointed at Mikey while still looking at Bob. "You know?"

Bob knew, exactly, but he couldn't figure out how to say so without sounding like he _knew_. He made an affirmative "erk" sound and stalled by taking off Mikey's glasses and fiddling with them. Brian had taped a string to the backs of the arms that went around the back of Bob's head to keep them from flying off Bob's face while he drummed, so Bob picked the tape off and tried to let the conversation die on its own.

Which it didn't. Naturally.

"Oh wow," Mikey said. "What was that like?"

Bob was pretty sure he'd directed the question at Ray, but Frank was the one who answered.

"Dude, it was so fucking weird!" He was lying on the couch with his head hanging off the edge. When Bob put Mikey's glasses back on, Frank was looking at Mikey upside down. "I swear it was like I couldn't keep my hands off you. Because _you_\--" directed at Bob "--would punch me in the face if I did that but you --" directed at Mikey "-- just let me do it like usual and. Yeah. So weird. Kinda hot, too."

Bob noticed abruptly that Mikey and Gerard were very pointedly not looking at each other. And Bob actually didn't want to talk about this, because, weird, but he asked without thinking, "You guys -- was it actually _more_ incesty that way?"

"What?" Mikey said loudly at the same time Gerard said more loudly, "No!"

And then it was a Mikey-Gerard back-and-forth of --

"Of course not --"

"What do you even mean by --"

"That's just --"

"Ew! And _no_. And --"

"No, what, _no_ \--"

"...kind of?"

Everybody stared at Gerard. Mikey looked stricken, though Bob wasn't sure if it was a bad stricken or a good stricken. Everyone else looked intrigued.

"Really?" Frank said. He rolled over and sat up, looking down at Gerard. He had the kind of look in his eyes that when he aimed it at Bob on stage made Bob want to beg Brian to let them build a riser for his drums.

Gerard sank deeper into himself where he sat against the couch on the floor. He shot Mikey a pained look and waved his hands.

"I just -- I don't normally even think about it. Because it's usually just stupid stage shit. But suddenly I couldn't _not_ think about it. You know? Because you don't look like you, you look like Bob, and it was _confusing_ knowing I could touch you like usual and it wouldn't be weird but getting kinda turned on because it was _Bob_ I was touching but then realizing it was also _you_ and that was surprisingly _not_ a turn-off and --"

"You should kiss him," Frank said.

"What?" everybody else said with varying degrees of horror.

Except Bob, because as soon as Frank said it Bob got an image in his head of watching himself be kissed by Gerard, and, wow. It was kind of stupidly hot.

"Bob agrees with me," Frank said, grinning demonically at him.

Bob tried to school his expression but it was too late. All eyes had turned to him, and he could tell they'd all seen whatever it was Frank had seen.

"Well," Bob said in a very small version of Mikey's voice. "It's...weird. It was weird. Watching you guys do that stuff. To...you know. Me? On stage?"

He shuffled. He cleared his throat. He had a towel draped over his neck and he wondered if he could manage to disappear if he pulled it up over his face.

Wincing, he looked at Mikey and opened his mouth to apologize for being a big perv. He even got his mouth open; but words failed to come out. Because Mikey was looking at him like he was having some really interesting revelations.

*

"This is so many different kinds of wrong," Gerard said.

"Damn," Frank said. "Just. Damn, Mikeyway."

"Is that," Mikey said. "Do I. Does. Is that how I _look_?"

He made Bob's voice squeak when he said it. It sounded ridiculous.

On the other hand, Bob was so over being bothered by that. At some point during the various stages of them all getting each other naked, Bob had pretty much decided that accidentally swapping bodies with bandmates, even when it was embarrassing, was a wonderful, awesome thing.

And then Ray shifted his angle, shoved Bob's gangly Mikey-legs farther apart and pounded harder, and it became downright miraculous.

*

Bob woke up to moaning. Not the good kind though; not the kind he'd fallen asleep to. This was the whiny kind.

"My _arms_. God. Seriously, _ow_."

It took Bob a bit, swimming up out of sleep, to figure out what was so important about that statement.

"Hey," he said. His voice sounded gravely with sleep and other things. "That's Mikey's voice."

"Mmph," Ray said from somewhere to Bob's immediate left. He wrenched his hand free from where Bob was laying on it and patted Bob's back. "Yes. Genius. Good job, Bob."

Bob slapped at his hand and struggled to turn over and sit up. It would have been easier if he hadn't had a boneless lump of Gerard draped over him.

"No," he said. "I didn't say that. Mikey did. Is what I'm trying to say. Um." He slumped against the couch, partially to hold himself up and partially because, yikes, sitting was going to be a dicey proposition for a little while. He scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles -- his own knuckles, fuck yeah -- and when he opened his eyes again Gerard was sprawled in his lap looking blearily up at him.

"Bob?" Gerard said.

Bob smiled at him.

"I can't lift my arms," Mikey moaned. "What the hell did you do to me?"

From the floor on the other side of Ray, Mikey twitched minutely and pathetically.

"Owwww," he whined.

"Sorry," Bob said, wincing. "It's from the drumming. You got shit for drummer's muscles, dude."

Mikey glared at him muzzily. Then Frank found Mikey's glasses and put them on Mikey's face for him, and Mikey focused his glare more pointedly.

"I don't see you having any issues with bass player's muscles," Mikey said accusingly.

Bob wiggled blistered fingers at him. "There's this."

"Oh, big deal," Mikey said, holding up two blistered hands.

"Well, _some_body was a little more adventurous than I probably would have been last night," Bob said. He shifted gingerly, trying to stretch out his legs without dislodging Gerard or sitting too flat on his own ass. "Jesus. What the fuck did you do with me when I wasn't looking?"

Mikey's expression froze, and then he flopped onto his back and stared resolutely at the ceiling. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said calmly.

"Uh huh," Bob said, unimpressed, because Frank buried his face against Mikey's shoulder and started laughing, and Ray turned bright red and flung an arm over his face to try to hide it.

"Jeez, guys," Bob grumbled. He wasn't sure what pissed him off more -- that he was really goddamned sore, or that he hadn't gotten to enjoy whatever it was they'd done to make him that way.

Then Frank lifted his head and looked at Mikey with big, serious eyes. "You should make it up to him."

"_Frank_," Gerard said, wriggling irritably in place. Bob sucked in a breath and plastered a hand on Gerard's face to hold him still. Gerard's voice was muffled when he said, "Enough with your ideas. You don't get to have ideas anymore."

"But --"

"No," Gerard said, pulling Bob's hand from his face and clutching it to his chest. "No more ideas that involve my brother having sex."

"Oh, you liked it," Frank muttered.

"Shut up," Gerard said.

"You really did," Bob said, shrugging apologetically when Gerard glared up at him. "Dude, I _was_ your brother, it was kind of hard to miss -- _ow_."

He jerked his hand back, away from Gerard's sharp little squirrel teeth.

Ray sighed deeply and extricated himself from the floor. He blushed a little while he rounded up some pants, which Bob did not really understand given how shamelessly enthusiastic Ray had been all night. Ray was a funny guy that way, though.

"How about," Ray said, tugging on what looked like a pair of Bob's boxers. "Frank can plot our next orgy later. After coffee."

"Yes," Gerard said emphatically. "Coffee now, trauma later."

Bob stayed put. Partly he was enjoying looking around and not seeing himself outside of mirrors; partly he truly was feeling pretty well-fucked. He was thinking about skipping the coffee and going straight to the anti-inflamatories and a nap.

Mikey didn't follow everybody else to the coffee pot right away. Instead he crawled over and knelt beside Bob, and smiled.

"It's good to see you again," he said.

"Likewise," Bob said.

"I mean, it turned out kinda fun, but, yeah."

Bob nodded and tried not to blush. "Yeah."

Mikey shifted off his knees, but before he stood he leaned in and brushed a kiss across Bob's mouth.

"I agree with Frank, though," Mikey said against Bob's lips. His hand was warm and light on Bob's side, but pressed heavier as he skimmed it down over Bob's hip to gently squeeze his ass. "I think I should probably make this up to you."

That was the one thing they hadn't done last night: neither of them had made a move toward each other. Watching themselves fuck and get fucked was one thing; but it would have been _too_ weird, relatively speaking, to fuck themselves.

On the other hand, Bob had absolutely no objection to doing that with Mikey when Mikey was one-hundred percent Mikey.

"I think you should definitely try," Bob said.

"We get to watch," Frank called from the kitchenette.

Bob flipped him off at the same time Mikey did.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "West Coast Smoker" by Fall Out Boy.


End file.
